


Oh So Pretty

by russian_blue



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, inspired by DeviantArt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/pseuds/russian_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheer silliness, 100% inspired by the artwork of Kelsey Michele Soderstrom (<a href="http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/">DeviantArt</a>/<a href="http://toughtink.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>). All credit for the images, and therefore most of the credit for the story, goes to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh So Pretty

The evening would have been a giant media circus even if it had just been the Tony Stark Show Featuring Tony Stark and His Ego. But he brought along guests -- polite code for “strong-armed his teammates into coming” -- and so the paparazzi frenzy reached stratospheric new levels.

There was Captain America, back from the dead! Or time-traveled out of the past, some people said. Or the government had just found a dead ringer for the original Steve Rogers and given him a superhero makeover. Whatever the reason, he was Cap enough to send everyone swinging between hipster disdain for such old-fashioned ideals and starry-eyed nostalgic patriotism.

And Thor, the mighty-thewed god from Asgard! His thews certainly got front-page coverage, usually with a blurry Jane Foster behind them. They tried to interview her, too, the lucky woman nobody had ever heard of who showed up on Thor’s arm, but Jane got impatient with them wanting to talk fashion instead of astrophysics.

Between those two and Iron Man himself, it was more than enough red meat to feed the press, which allowed the others to slip in pretty much unnoticed. Clint had been perched up high enough during the attack on Manhattan that almost nobody got pictures of him, so he was safe from recognition. He was just another one of Tony Stark’s guests, and not nearly as interesting as the trio posing for the cameras. Bruce was even safer: there were a thousand shots of the other guy, but none of him, the mild-mannered scientist who rescued Jane into a sensible conversation when the fashion questions got to be too much. Natasha had been photographed, but she also came in that evening through an upstairs window, avoiding the paparazzi altogether.

Maria Hill was there, too, under strenuous protest, and only because Fury insisted _somebody_ had to be, but it damn well wasn’t going to be him. She soothed her sense of outrage by showing up in uniform and playing traffic director/superhero wrangler with Pepper, and glaring off any reporter who tried to ask her a question. Tony praised the glare as Fury-esque, but suggested it was diluted by being delivered through two eyes. He was in top form that night, entertaining and annoying everyone in equal measure, often at the same time.

And why shouldn’t he be? He was the one who, in a fit of whimsy, had snatched Kelsey Michele Soderstrom from obscurity (as defined relative to Tony Stark) and given her this, a star-studded runway debut in front of a truly terrifying quantity of fashion bloggers and celebrity gossip-mongers.

At least Tony had promised that all cameras pointed at the seats for Natasha, Clint, Maria, and Bruce would unexpectedly malfunction, the pictures coming out as scrambled gibberish. Whatever their reactions to the show were, at least they wouldn’t be sprayed across the internet for all the world to see and comment on.

That didn’t stop Clint from casting a speculative look at the rafters overhead as he took his seat, or Bruce from hunching his shoulders and making himself as small and uninteresting as possible. Natasha directed a smile at Tony that said he would be paying for this later, and not in a way he’d enjoy. His answering grin said, _bring it on_.

Then the lights went down, and the fashion show began.

With a song-and-dance number, of course, because if they -- whoever Tony had put in charge of this spectacle -- didn’t find a way to pad out the event, it would be over far too quickly. The opening performance was a tribute to the Avengers and managed, surprisingly, to stay on the good side of taste, both in terms of limiting the use of glitter and not demeaning the people who had died during the attack. Then Tony took the stage, to thunderous applause.

“Thank you, thank you everyone, and welcome,” he said, with that familiar shit-eating grin. “You know, I’m really glad you all could join us here tonight. Because what we’re going to show you is the proof that being a superhero isn’t all about punching aliens out of the sky. It’s also about looking _fabulous_.

“And that’s what Kelsey Michele Soderstrom has done -- she’s made it so that all of _you_ can look fabulous, too. At least, so long as you look good in a dress. But you know, there’s no reason that has to be limited to the ladies. I saw some fellows coming in who had very nice legs. A bit of waxing, a bit of lipstick, and boom!” A jet of flame shot up at the back of the stage to punctuate his words. Natasha wondered if that meant Tony’s monologue was actually scripted, then decided he probably had some sort of control device hidden in his back molar or left butt cheek or wherever.

An electronic drumbeat was building over the loudspeakers. “I know fashion shows aren’t usually my thing,” Tony said, “but I really couldn’t resist this one. And I’ll spare you all the jokes about weaponized good looks. With no further ado, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Kelsey Michele Soderstrom’s _Avengers evening wear!_ ”

More fire burst out, and then the stage went dark. In the sudden quiet, the runway lit up, and the first model appeared.

They’d decided to begin with nostalgia, and the various “awwww” noises from around the room indicated it had been a good choice. The woman coming down the runaway was a pixie, much smaller and cuter than your average model and a bit of dandelion fluff in comparison to Captain America, but the look suited her dress perfectly.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Thor-and-Captain-America-305808542?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=7)

The blue skirt flounced as she walked, flared as she turned, revealing a frothy white petticoat beneath. Stars glittered along the off-the-shoulder neckline, and when she lifted her white-gloved hands beneath her chin for a demure curtsy, her pocketbook was shown to be a tiny circle in imitation of Cap’s shield. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Natasha muttered, but she kept it quiet. Steve was looking delighted, and ruining that would be like kicking a puppy.

The pixie-Cap retreated in her bright red heels, and another woman swept out onstage in her place. An enormous ruff of green fur circled her shoulders, and the narrow sheath of the dress quickly widened out into a slit-fronted mass of darker ruffles. Bruce hunched deeper in his seat, but the shy grin on his lips said he was at least as amused as uncomfortable to see the other guy rendered as an evening gown. The model’s attempted snarl when she posed at the end of the runway, though, made all the Avengers cringe.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Iron-Man-and-Hulk-306504701?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=6)

All except for Tony, of course. He leaned forward to catch Bruce’s eye across the intervening bulk of Steve and Thor, with Jane almost lost behind them, and punched the air encouragingly. Bruce, perhaps wisely, did not dignify that with a response.

Murmurs of puzzlement greeted the next piece, a severe, almost plain-looking gown in navy blue, until the model reached the end of the runway and turned in a sharp pivot, sweeping the train of her skirt around so the audience could see it clearly. The angular figure of a hawk or an eagle perched below the low-cut back, lines like feathers streaming down the train, and polite applause began as the more knowledgeable parts of the audience recognized it as a tribute to the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Coulson-Fury-and-Hill-309969242?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=3)

The guests of honor in the front row saw the model’s brown hair, swept into an elegant bun, knew it was more than that. Maria Hill sat rigid in her seat, silently hoping she could trust Stark’s promise to keep cameras off her, and knowing he probably had one of his own that was functioning just fine. He’d told them this would be a lineup of Avengers evening wear. He’d said nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D., much less a gown based on _her_.

Any question of whether she should be flattered or annoyed, though, was blown out of the water by the model who came next.

An imposing black woman strode down the runway with a decisive air entirely at odds with the floating pouf of her skirt. Gauze glittered silver over the black silk, its floating lightness contrasting with the sharp lines segmenting the bodice. Even fewer members of the audience knew what to make of this one, which had no recognizable insignia at all, but the model’s race and the hair draped coyly over one eye had Natasha and Clint choking on laughter, and even Bruce failing to hold back a grin. Director Fury had his moment tonight, whether he wanted it or not.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Coulson-Fury-and-Hill-309969242?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=3)

The dress that followed was minimalist by comparison: a little sixties-style mini with an elbow-length cape over it, in understated shades of purple. The bracelet clasping the model’s left wrist, and the quiver-shaped purse, gave the clues to identify this one; murmurs of “archer” ran around the room, and people nodded sagely. They knew Hawkeye had been on the roofs during the battle, even if he’d drawn less attention than his more gregarious (not to say “media-whoring”) teammates.

Before that model retreated, she was joined by another, this one drawn straight from classic Hollywood. Natasha grinned appreciatively at the gown she’d inspired, with its elbow-length gloves, neckline slit down to the navel, and red satin bustle and train. “I’ll take that,” she remarked, as the Black Widow and Hawkeye models posed together for the cameras, then retired from the stage.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Black-Widow-and-Hawkeye-308509723?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=4)

By now, everyone could guess who was coming next; there weren’t many more to display, and it was obvious who would be coming last. Now the light glinted off silver, both the hard metal of brooches and the softer weave of fabric. The chains between the brooches glittered from different angles with each stride the model took, and the diaphanous red silk draping gracefully behind lifted and danced in the air, as if blown by a gentle breeze. The applause was loud, but not loud enough to drown out Thor’s booming, delighted voice: “Look, Jane! It represents _me!_ ”

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Thor-and-Captain-America-305808542?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=7)

The model striding down the runway gave the impression of being nearly as tall as Thor, though she probably weighed less than one of his legs. Her clutch was worked to echo the lines of his hammer, and -- as Thor was eagerly pointing out to everyone within earshot -- the clip holding back one side of her sleek hair was shaped like a thunderbolt. Like any experienced model, she maintained a look of bored disdain as she strutted down the runway, but no model’s facade could have survived an Asgardian god leaping into her path, seizing her by the shoulders, and planting a resounding kiss on each cheek. Flushing bright red, she escaped in something more like a scurry than a strut.

It seemed to have thrown off the rhythm of the show. Steve, next to Tony, heard the man murmuring something under his breath, that sounded more like instructions than swearing. An instant later, the lights dimmed, and everyone expected the grand finale.

They got something else.

A spotlight flared onto the very end of the runway, revealing a tall, black-haired figure in a floor-length sweep of green and gold. Her dress, too, was a throwback to earlier times, but it was the accessories that commanded everyone’s attention: two delicate curves of gold upon her brow, and a pair of opera glasses glowing with uncanny blue light.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Loki-311128456?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=2)

Some of the audience applauded, out of faltering reflex, but the air hissed with the collective intake of breath. They hadn’t expected a tribute to S.H.I.E.L.D., but it was fitting. A tribute to _Loki_ . . . .

Thor had returned to the floor after accosting his model, but hadn’t yet taken his seat. Now he stood rigid, staring at that dark and luminous figure. He, more than anyone in that hall, knew his brother’s trickster nature. If it amused him to disguise himself as a woman, he would.

Steve tensed, though which person he was about to throw himself at, he couldn’t say.

Then arc-blue light split the air and the music hammered back into life, and the final model, resplendent in a red-and-gold mini, dropped down from a rig in the ceiling. She posed as she descended, and the Loki model fled in vaudeville terror to the back of the stage, leaving the Iron Man -- Iron Woman? -- to claim the end of the runway, and the applause.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Iron-Man-and-Hulk-306504701?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=6)

Jane dragged Thor back down into his seat as the rest of the models converged on the stage, menacing the fake Loki until she fled, ruffles fluttering with every step. And then it was time for the song-and-dance again, while the Avengers sagged back into their seats and wondered how the hell Tony convinced them to show up for this.

There was a party afterwards, of course -- there was always a party -- and Thor was in the middle of trying to explain about the time Loki convinced him to dress up like a bride (and everyone else was trying not to listen) when Pepper brought Soderstrom, the designer, up to meet them.

She shook hands with everybody, and made arrangements for Natasha to get a copy of her own dress. “I think we need one of each,” Tony said. “Especially the Nick Fury one. Actually, let’s get a dozen of those -- oh, hell, a dozen of each. Who’s counting?”

He was still chattering on when Maria Hill stepped forward, studying Soderstrom’s own dress. “That’s part of the set, too, isn’t it,” she said quietly, cutting Tony off.

Compared to the others, it was hardly attention-getting. Dark fabric, darker lapels and pocket flaps, only a hint of white cuffs at the ends of the sleeves. It looked a bit like a man’s suit, redone like an evening gown, with a looped chain necklace in place of a tie.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Coulson-Fury-and-Hill-309969242?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=3)

The others fell silent. Then Steve said, “How do you even know about him?”

“I told her,” Tony said. “The set wasn’t complete without it.”

Soderstrom looked self-conscious, smoothing one hand over the narrow wrapped skirt of the Coulson dress. But one by one, the Avengers nodded, and a few of them even smiled.

Tony couldn’t let the mood stay somber for long. “So I figure, next time she can design the clothes for _us_ to wear . . . .”

* * *

And they all lived fabulously ever after.

[ ](http://kelseymichele.deviantart.com/art/Avengers-Gowns-Complete-Collection-311324991?q=gallery%3Akelseymichele%2F35436498&qo=1)


End file.
